


drowse

by montecarlos



Category: Formula E RPF
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, Soft Boys, based on today's race
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 02:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17398580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/pseuds/montecarlos
Summary: Antonio is upset after the race, but comfort comes in the form of a former teammate.(aka. a drabble about robin and ant being soft)





	drowse

**Author's Note:**

> LOOK HERE!! Sarah has written something under 2k and things haven't spiralled out of control??? This is based on and inspired by today's race result, and Robin's comment on Ant's post today. I have used said comment in my fic, that is 100% dem boys. Gaydretti lives, bro. This is a sweet little thing that will probably give you cavities, a far cry from the hard-hitting stuff I've been posting of late. Title is from the Queen song. 
> 
> For Kim and Rae, the og Gaydretti squad.

Ant presses the palms of his hands into the corners of his eyes, willing himself not to cry. He’s finally back in his hotel room. Freshly showered and stripped of his team overalls, he still feels numbed by what happened. He had ended up having to stand in the garage, presenting a united front, numbed by the pain and hidden behind his reflective sunglasses. He doesn’t even want to think about the cameras he knows were on him as he stood by the catch fencing, unable to comprehend what just happened.   
  
It wasn’t Alexander’s fault, not really. He made a mistake, sure, wanting to claim the win that he had watched his teammate snatch in Ad Diriyah. It still doesn’t change the fact that a few hours ago, Antonio was the championship leader. He was in a strong position towards the front of the grid and looked certain to score well. Everything changed in a moment. He was set to win his second consecutive race...when Alexander had come out of nowhere. Ant remembers his chest twisting as the two cars had collided, sending him flying off the track and his hopes of winning dwindled to nothing.   
  
Mark had held an emergency debrief after the race, after the joint interview. Ant sat at one end of the table and Alexander at the other. Ant barely remembers what he said - it was probably hurtful, angry, twisted words, words that he couldn’t say to the press. He will probably have to apologise when he’s calmed down. He regrets them in that moment. He grabs his phone, trying to ignore the photos on his feed of a happy Jerome, Sam and Robin - Robin - he should be happy for the Dutchman. He almost won the damn thing but all he can think about is his own missed opportunity to monopolise on another win and lift himself clear in the championship. The words come easy to him in his native Portuguese - speaking of how disappointed he is, of Alex and thanking everyone for the support. He feeds his words through Google translate, set to English, unable to even begin to think how to translate his pain and anger into a language that is not his mother tongue. After he hits send, he slumps back amongst the pillows, alone with his own thoughts. He worries his lip, replaying the moment again and again - the crunch of the chassis as they collided, the brakes squealing -   
  
A knock at the door cuts through the thoughts, jolting him back to reality.   
  
Ant stays quiet for a moment, wondering if he imagined it, if it was part of his thoughts. However, a moment later, another knock presses through the suffocating silence.   
  
“I’m not in the mood to talk right now, Alex,” He finds himself saying, his tone angry and clipped.   
  
“Lucky I am not Alex then,” A familiar voice sounds through the wood and Ant pushes himself up from the crumpled sheets, his hand combing through his mussed hair, because he knows that voice. That voice always manages to make him feel better.   
  
_Robin._   
  
“Antonio,” Robin’s voice curls again through the wood. “Come on, open the door. I know you don’t really want to be on your own right now,”   
  
He’s right. Ant doesn’t want to be alone. His lip is caught between his teeth as he slowly moves towards the door, socked feet moving over the plush carpet. He wants to tell Robin that he should be on his own, that he would only hurt the older man with his words but he can’t bring himself to say them out loud. His hand hesitates on the door handle when Robin speaks again, his voice is soft, comforting in a way that nobody else’s could ever be.   
  
“It’s okay, Ant, I’m here,”   
  
Ant doesn’t even realise the shaky breath that he lets out as he slowly turns the handle of the door. Robin is standing in the hallway - his hair is mussed and slightly damp, as though he’s just come from the shower. He’s wearing one of his soft grey hoodies, the one that he stole from Ant two years ago when they were teammates and a warm smile.   
  
“Hey,” Robin says, his voice still soft. “You look like shit,” He continues, taking in Ant’s red eyes and messy hair.  His hand curls around Ant’s shoulder, guiding him back inside his room. It’s warm, just like his voice, his calloused fingers rubbing at his skin through his thin t-shirt.   
  
“Nice to see you too,” Ant murmurs thickly as the door closes behind them. “What are you doing here?”   
  
“Had to see you,” Robin says, tugging Ant into a hug. “Wanted to see if you were alright,”   
  
Ant melts into Robin’s touch. His skin of Robin’s collarbone is warm against Ant’s forehead, his head pressed into the crook of his shoulder. Robin’s hands slowly rub over his back, working over the knot that he knows has been bothering Antonio for the last few hours. He feels safe with Robin, like he can drop the mask that he’s been holding onto for the past few hours. He doesn’t even realise he’s crying until Robin’s arms tighten around his shaking shoulders,  tears soaking into the soft grey material of the Dutchman’s hoodie.   
  
“It’s okay,” Robin whispers, his hand moving to gently hook into Ant’s hair. Ant lets out a sob as Robin’s fingers move through his hair. He knows it’s better to let everything out, that Robin would never judge him for crying. “It’s okay, Ant,” Robin whispers again and Ant feels a warm pair of lips brush against the crown of his head.   
  
He feels Robin guide them towards the bed, kicking off his trainers and jostling Ant’s face ever so slightly. A faint Dutch curse colours the air for a moment before Ant feels soft sheets against his bare skin. His hand moves out to brush against Robin’s bicep, feeling the firm muscle under the pads of his fingers, the slightest thump of Robin’s pulse. He can feel his heart thudding against the walls of his ribcage as the sobs bubble up in his throat once again.   
  
“You can let it out,” Robin murmurs, barely audible through layers of crying and cotton. “I’m not going anywhere,”   
  
“I could have won,” Ant whispers against Robin’s chest, his hand moving to tighten on the Dutchman’s sleeve. “I could have won that race - and it’s stupid because I am so happy for you, but I should have been up there with you-” His voice cracks on the last word, the pain clearly evident in his tone as Robin’s arm tightens around his shoulders.   
  
He knows he’s probably not making much sense right now. His words seem to squeeze into one another, hidden by his pained sobs and the tear-stained material of Robin’s hoodie. “I just- wanted it so badly-”   
  
“I know you did,” Robin’s voice remains calm, consistent and soothing. “You did everything right. You were just unlucky,”   
  
“I shouted at Alex in the debriefing-”   
  
“You used to shout at me all the time during our debriefing, I never took it personal,” Robin says, with a tone of amusement hanging in his voice.   
  
Ant feels a snort bubble up in his throat. “But he’s not _you_ ,” He slowly lifts his head away from Robin’s chest, knowing that he looks an utter mess. He knows that his hair is mussed and his eyes are red raw but Robin looks at him like he’s anything but that. There’s a soft smile playing on the Dutchman’s lips, just in the corner, a smile reserved only for Antonio.   
  
Robin’s hand slowly moves from Ant’s hair to cup his face, his thumb brushing lightly over his jawline. “You’re worth so much more than one race result,”   
  
Ant should be able to feel the dried tear-tracks on his face and the lumpy duvet digging into his thin clothing, but instead all he can feel is Robin’s thumb stroking over his skin, his breath slowly moving over his face. “Robin, I-”   
  
Robin smiles, his face moving closer. Ant can see his thick, dark eyelashes, the little dimple in the corner of his mouth, the tiny scar at the side of his nose. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. His mouth slowly finds Ant’s, their lips connecting, slowly, lazily, almost like a song. Robin’s lips are chapped and dry, but Ant doesn’t care in that moment. It should be angry and emotional, but instead, it’s loving and patient. They seem to stay in the kiss for what feels like hours, just lips brushing over one another, exploring every inch of skin. It’s almost as though Robin knows what Ant needs. It’s unspoken in a way that they have always managed to communicate - never venturing beyond what the other’s basic needs are. Robin slowly pulls away from the kiss, a smile curling in the corners of his mouth as his fingers continue to stroke over Ant’s skin.   
  
“You should sleep,” Robin murmurs, his voice syrup-slow. “You’ve had a long day,”   
  
“Only if you stay with me,” Ant replies, the words slipping out of his mouth before he can stop them. Robin’s thumb stills against his cheek.   
  
“You know I will,” He murmurs back, that half smile still playing upon his lips. Ant finds himself smiling in response, a smile he hopes that Robin knows is reserved only for him .   
  
Clothes are soon removed, in between stolen kisses, Ant’s bare back pressing against Robin’s chest. It’s not often that Robin is the big spoon in their cuddling sessions, but he seems to anticipate that it’s what Ant needs. He needs to feel protected and loved. Robin’s warm body curls around his own almost in reassurance, their legs tangled together, Robin’s lips brushing against his neck. It’s easy enough to fall asleep in Robin’s arms, exhaustion slowly taking over.   
  
Ant wakes what feels like moments later. He smiles as he feels the comforting warmth of Robin’s body still pressed against his own, lax in sleep, the Dutchman’s light breaths tickling the back of his neck. Ant swipes his phone from the bedside table to check the time.   
  
03.43AM.   
  
He notices another notification from instagram. Robin’s profile photo - that stupid bloody photo of him lying down on one of the race equipment cabinets appears in the bubble - and he feels his heart race as he clicks on the app to load the comment.   
  
**robinfrijns1** : Proud of you my man❤️   
  
Ant feels the smile brush against the corners of his mouth as he reads Robin’s comment over and over again. He’s clearly posted it whilst Ant had been asleep, the timestamp dated a few hours ago. Ant slowly places his phone back on the bedside table and turns over. The lights of the Marrakesh twinkle through the thin drapes of the window, casting light on Robin’s sleeping face. He looks peaceful, beautiful - all thick eyelashes dusting over pale skin and slightly parted lips, still swollen from the kisses Ant had placed on them - Ant smiles as he moves closer to the sleeping man, not wishing to disturb him.

“I'm proud of you too,” He whispers before sleep takes over once more, his body settling against Robin's.


End file.
